


Promises

by WhiteFoxKitsune (ProwlingThunder)



Series: Little Stars [37]
Category: Invasion America (Cartoon)
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Religion, Dragit's Kids, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8126540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlingThunder/pseuds/WhiteFoxKitsune
Summary: Xerxes' life is full of promises.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic.

The Church is as much a tantalizing promise as it is a secret adventure.

Xerxes steps inside the archway beyond the doors for the first time when he is three, dogged by tales of an Ooshati nursemaid and led, supported, by Mother's warm smile and gentle eyes. _There is nothing to fear here,_ Mother's hand squeezing his promises gently; _I am here, you are safe, I will always be here._ A promise, Xerxes knows, will not always be true, but he is three and wishes to believe. He hopes, instead, that it is true, and he will loose no one else.

Mother shows him hidden passages, quick routes to the Circle of the Priests' Garden, the treasures of the kitchen and the jewel that is the Gods Library.

 _We'll be pirates,_ Mother swears, in a hushed, quiet voice, because Xerxes is yet a child. _But before we be pirates,_ she says, _we must be noblemen._ And then she winks, and tucks him into bed, and goes to talk to the Priests.

Mother stays with him for a week, weaving stories from every nook and cranny a child as young as he may see, and lays the foundation for the adventure. For accomplishment, like Earth-born Robinshood.

He does not see his mother again. His view of the outside is limited at best, and he is cared for by Nech, who becomes like his father. Or what stories paint fathers, for Xerxes knows his blood by name and myth and rumor only. Nech teaches him all he needs to know, and that he is to know himself by how he perceives others. Xerxes keeps a journal, and writes of everyone he sees, everyone he speaks to, and the only thing he does not pick apart is his mother's letters.

-

The Church is not so much an adventure when he is older, but it still holds promise; strong, and unyielding, and it gives him everything.

Xerxes first attacks the library unattended when he is seven, and surprises Nech with a flare of knowledge of history forgotten on top shelves and lost in dust. Nech never lets him in the library again, and calmly, patiently explains that Xerxes needs to forget about those shelves. Xerxes doesn't know anything about Rafeal, Zeran or the Clash of Kings, and so he was happy to do so.

He is oddly happy when Nech confronts him about his journal entry, questioning why his charge thinks a certain expression means he is proud, and Xerxes can't hide his smile, because Nech is still wearing it.

 _You did well,_ Nech does not say, but Xerxes hears him anyway, in his motions and his gaze, and preens under his mentor's unspoken praise.

-

Xerxes is eleven when he receives his last letter from his Mother, a silent promise. He writes to his brothers, but that is limited. They don't talk about anything. Mother, he tells everything.

He has a little sister. Mother named her Joan, off a female warrior Earthside, like he was named after a great man. Xerxes has never met her, has never seen her; he knows her better then anyone might, reading his mother's dictations of the beautiful, warm-hearted little girl who only wants to please. Who listens to stories of a lost brother on her mother's knee, and Xerxes feels closer to the child he's never met, never spoken to, never seen, then he ever has to his brothers. He and Joan do not write, however; Xerxes only knows to write one language, and Joan cannot read it. The same is true in reverse.

If they did not speak through their mother, neither would be aware of the other.

He sends back promises to meet them both soon, and a gift of carefully whittled beads, edged and etched in prayer. _Stay safe,_ he does not write, but he is certain they hear the words in his letters.

-

Nech is there, a silent pillar of support, when he has to deliver the news to Xerxes that there will be no more letters from the strongest support he had ever had. Xerxes manages a sad, distant smile, and promises Nech he will not miss evening prayers.

For the life of him, Xerxes does not know why Nech looks saddened by this fact.

-

The Church is now a sanctuary, a barrier to protect him from the outside world, and the horrors that live there.

Xerxes throws himself into his studies and worship, and sets aside the journal he kept for family. Stubbornly, he locks away further letters, unopened.  
  
*-*-*-*  
  
Xerxes cuts his hand through the air, and marvels as distant forms snap, crack, and shatter.

_-_

_You can change the world, my prince,_ Mother whispers.

 _This is your power, perfected,_ Nech swears.

For the first time, Xerxes fears the future that is set for him, that has been designed explicitly for him. But he knows he cannot step off the path; his mother has died for this, Nech has lived for it. Xerxes is going to give back to them everything he can, and if all he can do is walk this path for them.

-

"You have letters you need to read, Xerxes."

Xerxes motioned to the box at the foot of his hammock, and almost heard more then saw Nech frown at him. Much as Nech ever did.

"It is from the Matriarch. It will be important."

"I will read it later."

"Now, if you would."

-

The Church is his safe-haven. Now, it is the world beyond that is the promise.


End file.
